Planted with Hope (27 page)

She also thought about Pauline's garden journal. In 1942 the young mother had started out wanting to prove herself—to prove that she could help with the war effort too—but God had given her so much more. He'd given her friends. He'd given her a community, and He'd given her a heritage to pass on.

Forgive me for being so selfish, God. Forgive me for trying to keep this gift to myself. I know opening up the garden also means opening up my heart. I know it will be messy. I know it will be noisy. But I also know there are lessons there I will learn no other way.

Hope paused and took a deep breath. “And… ” she whispered, “I will accept all this as a gift instead of a burden. I will embrace others instead of pushing them away. And I pray, Lord, that You will do Your work in all of us.”

A gentle peace came then, like the soft, warm spring breeze that had blown through the maple trees and over her garden back in Walnut Creek. That garden was still there, being tended by someone else. And for the first time, she was at peace with that.

Hope reached over and picked up the journal. She turned to the back page where she'd tucked Janet's phone number. She also
remembered the last words Janet had spoken when they parted. “If you'd ever like to see Mother's garden, just let me know.”

It had been three weeks since Elizabeth had given her the journal and she'd first started reading about Pauline's story. Yet she never considered visiting the garden until now. And deep down she knew why. Pauline had taken what she had and she'd freely offered it to others, and to see her garden would convict Hope to do the same.

But God had already done the convicting, and maybe she did need to go see the garden—see what God had continued to do in the years since Pauline had dug up that first clump of grass. Because maybe God had bigger plans for Hope too. Plans she couldn't even wrap her mind around.

Hope rose from her bed, wondering if Dat was still out back, and wondering if she could use his cell phone to call Janet. Would it be possible for her to visit the garden sometime soon?

An urgency stirred in her heart that surprised her. Once she submitted to God's voice, there was nothing holding her back.

May 20, 1942

Henry Coulter won my heart by weeding my garden on the one Saturday I dared to sleep in. He'd come by with a single rose to thank me for the wonderful evening at the dance, and when our housekeeper told him that I was still in bed he decided to tackle the weeds. It was Janet who saw him first and woke me up to tell me. By the time I dressed and tied a scarf around my hair Henry and Janet had finished the job. And for the next few hours we lay on the grass and watched the planes flying overhead. Henry described the B-17 Flying Fortresses. He described how the 97
^th
Bombardment Group, which
had been training since March, were now in England. And now it was the 92
^nd
Bombardment Group who flew overhead. Henry is a mechanic and guesses he'll stay around Florida a while taking care of the airplanes. For a while we sat in silence—even Janet—because we all know how quickly things can change.

When Janet went to lunch Henry asked about my husband's death. He assumed that Richard had been a soldier or pilot. It was strange how easy it was to tell Henry about Richard. It wasn't until the end of our time together that I realized I'd done most of the talking. Just as I started asking him questions, a neighbor came by to pick beans. We all picked them for a while, but somehow Henry ended up doing most of the work. He was fast too. Said it was due to all the contests he had with his brothers growing up. Henry also recommended that I plant sweet potatoes. He guessed they would thrive. I told him I'd try it. I also invited him to stay for dinner. I miss cooking for Richard and since our cook had the day off, Mother said I could take command of the kitchen for the night. I made poppy seed chicken and baked corn. Both turned out delicious, if I say so myself.

I had a smile on my face after Henry left—or so my mother told me. Even Janet fell asleep tonight without worries of bad people coming to attack us. I know it might be too early to write this—since I've only seen Henry a dozen times—but the world seems like a safer place tonight knowing he's out there, doing his part.

Hope yawned as she walked into Elizabeth's fabric shop. She'd been up late into the night reading the Victory Journal. Thankfully Lovina had drifted right off to sleep and the light from the lamp hadn't bothered her sister. Lovina had been working long hours at the pie shop lately and she often went straight to sleep.
Hope missed the long chats she used to have with her sister at night, but in a strange way a lot of her questions—about relationships and following God's call—were being answered within the pages of the journal.

Hope loved reading the recipes, the gardening tips, and the way neighbors were turning into friends, but even more she appreciated reading about Pauline's growing relationship with Henry. Like rose petals unfolding, it was sweet to read about how their relationship bloomed. At times, Hope felt embarrassed as she read about USO dances, walks on the beach, first kisses, and the time they spent together in the garden. Hope didn't know if Pauline ever planned on having her journal being read by others, especially by a stranger, yet Hope was thankful to read about the woman's tentative steps and even her questions concerning the relationship.

Hope had always believed that when one found the person he or she should be with for life, everything would just make sense and fall into place, but maybe that wasn't true. Maybe the path to love was more crooked than straight at times.

Even as Pauline felt herself growing closer to Henry, she took time to also write out her worries and fears. Should she think about marriage again? Was it foolish to allow herself to fall in love, knowing that Henry would most likely be shipped overseas to fight the Nazis? And what about Janet—what if things didn't work out with her and Henry? Pauline didn't want her little girl's heart to break too.

In the fabric store, Elizabeth was busy helping a customer look at some of the handmade quilts, and so Hope took it upon herself to start straightening the bolts. As she did her own questions—similar to Pauline's—played in her mind:

Was there a reason Jonas hadn't remarried? Was he worried
about Emma? Was his heart still so broken from his loss that he couldn't think about opening it up again?

And what about her? Was she ready to be a wife, a mother? She knew that once she had a husband and children she wouldn't be able to use her garden as an escape. She couldn't run from people who depended on her. Her life would have to be more than just planting the right vegetables and keeping the rows weed-free.

The customer purchased a beautiful wedding-ring quilt, and Hope helped her carry the bulky package to her car. When Hope returned Elizabeth was just hanging up the phone.

Elizabeth motioned Hope to join her at the counter. “I have sad news, I'm afraid.”

Hope approached and paused before the older woman. “Is everything okay? You're not ill, are you? Is everything all right with Janet?”

“
Ja,
with Janet everything is good, but her daughter in Tampa had an episode and needs surgery. Janet's going to help with her grandchild. Her friend is driving her up, and she'll be gone for the rest of the week. I'm afraid she's not able to show us her garden today.”

Disappointment caused the brightness of the room to fade slightly. Hope's shoulders slumped. “I understand. I hope her daughter starts feeling well soon.”

“I hope so too. Janet says she'll call me when she returns to set up a time for us to visit.”

“And what about this week? Will she need someone to tend to her garden? That sure is a long time to leave it alone.”

Elizabeth's eyes sparkled. She pressed her thin lips together but a hint of a grin poked through. Thin lines spread from her lips up to her cheeks, and finally she spoke. “Janet has no need to worry
about her garden while she's gone. It'll be well tended. Janet—like her mother—has made many friends in her neighborhood.”

“That's
gut
to know.”

“I suppose the blessing is that you can spend time in your own garden today,” Elizabeth added.

Hope winced slightly at those words. She did need to do some weeding, but she usually enjoyed being there earlier in the day—to miss the crowds. And then she remembered her thoughts from yesterday. God had given her a garden not to keep to herself, but to open it up. Her job was to be faithful in the small things, even if it meant opening her garden up instead of hiding it away.

“
Ja
, I think I will enjoy time in my garden today. I think I'll even stop by the school when it is done. There is something I need to talk to Jonas—I mean Brother Sutter—about.” Hope lowered her head and brushed her hands on her skirt as if brushing away invisible lint.

“It sounds like it'll be a
gut
day then.” Elizabeth's voice rose an octave as if she was holding in laughter. “Just the day that the Lord has made. But why wait until after school? The kids won't be arriving for another twenty minutes yet. I'm sure Brother Sutter would be pleased to have you visit.”

 

Baked Corn

1 pint corn, drained

2 eggs, beaten

2 Tbsp granulated sugar

2 Tbsp all-purpose flour

¼ cup butter, melted

1½ cups milk

1 tsp. salt

ground black pepper to taste

Preheat oven to 400°. Combine all ingredients in a 9×9-inch baking dish. Bake until top turns brown. Lower oven temperature to 300° and continue baking for one hour.